


Through the Tropes

by tigereyes45



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 17:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17585489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45
Summary: There were so many almost moments. So many cliche happenstances that could have been them making it. Yet it never happened. They were so cheesy they could have been plucked straight from a romance novel. If only they had worked.





	Through the Tropes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [free_smarcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/free_smarcher/gifts).



After all these years he was surprised it happened this way. With her and him in the barracks of Skyhold. Thinking back there was a few moments when he thought something could have happened. Setups that he later used to push forward relationships within his books. Yet none of them had worked on her and him. Varric had assumed it was because they were really good friends, but now he knows that the lining was mutual. It was always just one thing that killed the mood.

….

 When he followed Hawke to the coast Varric assumed it was to kill more bandits. Hunt down a bear that had tumbled down from the mountains. He even suspected it was due to Hawke just wanting a break and a stroll with her bare feet in the sand. So when she pulled out a rickety dingy from behind a few well place bushes Varric’s body nearly left his skin. The dwarf never did like sailing. His chances of drowning were far higher than any long-limbed humans.

“Hawke what are you planning to do with that dinghy?”

“It's not a dinghy. It's a rowboat.” Hawke corrected him as she drags the dinghy over to the edge of the water.

“Uh-huh, and why do you have it?” it was then he realized his fatal mistake of agreeing to accompany Hawke alone. She had really lost her mind, wanting to go out in that rotting ship.

“We’re going fishing!” Hawke exclaims. When he frowns she smiling smugly at him. Mischief was a look Hawke always wore, but now it seemed to ooze off of her as waves of magic usually did. “I’m joking,” Hawke explains as she gets closer.

“Did wh-,” Varric felt his words turn into a shout as Hawke wrapped her hands around him and with one grunt had Varric lifted up to her height.

“Hah that was a lot easier then I thought it would be.” Hawke smiles triumphantly with herself as she carries Varric over to the dinghy.

“Hawke put me down, right now,” Varric orders kicking his feet in the air. She starts to tighten her hold as he squirms.

“Gladly Varric.” She drops him and he can feel the dry wood splintering up as his ass lands on it. “I just needed to make sure you got in.” She is almost singing the words now as she pushes the dingy from behind him.

Varric swerved around only to see that it was too late for him to jump off. In the water they were. With the shoreline growing ever farther away. He risks a look down, only to see nothing but dark blue water. He wants to take a chance that the water was not taller than him yet. To see if he could feel sand and water fill his boots. Without the sea consuming his lungs around with them.

He reaches out to lightly touch the water’s surface. It reacts by sending half circles colliding with the side of the boat. Hawke giggles. The same way she had before getting Carver pissed drunk once. Hawke was making a plan. One of her devious, mischievous, often times overall hilarious plan. It was never funny for the one on the receiving end.

“I wouldn’t try going overboard if I were you.” She teases, now casting her smile towards the water. “Taller men haven’t survived it.”

“What are you planning?” Varric asks crossing his arms. At least Hawke wasn’t insisting that he help with the rowing.

“There is a place I want to visit,” Hawke explains. She was enjoying prolonging her explanation. Delight never left her eyes for a moment.

“And it’s an island?” Varric asks wishing he had some bad habits to turn to right now. Questioning her sense would have to do. At least it provided him with some information.

“Yes. A very small one. Someone gave me this map in exchange for me not killing him.” Varric raises an eyebrow at the news. Hawke wasn’t the one to go attacking people for, well a map. “They JUMPED me.” She tosses the explanation out quickly before looking over her shoulder. “Hold the map will you?” She lets one row go to shove the map into Varric’s lap. “Anyways one bandit decided he wanted to live. And I had recently acquired this dinghy. So,” She elongates the word. Dragging it out far longer than necessary. She was doing so for the dramatics nothing more. If Varric had learned anything about Hawke so far, it was that the girl loved to be dramatic. A trait that Varric used to often help with embellishing his stories of her. Sometimes Hawke believed his stories as true, forgetting what had actually occurred after a few too many drinks.

“Ah, there it is!” She announced cheerfully. With a name like Hawke and a voice like that, Varric almost wanted to describe her action as chirping. The word didn’t sound as right in his head though. Hawke may have the surname of a bird, but she never chirped. Hawks were a bird of prey, so he guessed they ca-cawed. Maybe screech. He would have to go looking for some hawks as research later. It would be a good comparison to use later.

When the boat collided with the sand, Varric half-expected his lunch to come up with it. The way it lurched him forward Varric would have hit Hawke’s seat. That was if she hadn’t caught him. A smile still plastered onto her face.

“Steady there,” She chimes, her voice light.

“Oh Hawke, if you wanted to hold me you could have just asked,” he teases blinky his eyes up at her. She actually laughed back before dropping him. Varric was prepared for it. He throws his arms out under him. His fingers catch on Hawke’s seat. If the sea hadn’t made him feel sick, then the fall must’ve. As he sits on his knees, Varric holds his stomach. It felt as if someone had twisted his insides. Hell maybe Hawke had. She did have magic fingers, according to his novels.

“You done?” Hawke asks as she drags the dinghy further inland.

“That depends. Are we going to be taking this ship back?” Varric asks frowning at the sight of sand. He hates sand. Almost as much as sailing. 

“It’s the only one I bought.” Hawke gestures to the empty beach.

“Well it’ll need cleaning before we go back.”

“Ew! Get the fuck out Varric!” She demands tipping the boat over.

He falls back into the sand. Grains clinging to each individual strand of hair. It would take months to shake them all. Sometimes he still feels a bit of sand. Here and there. In his drawers. In his hair. How they didn’t see the storm. That sudden gust of wind that took the ship and stranded them.

He still remembers how her face fell. The way Hawke almost dove into the water after their poorly made ship. He remembers the wind and rain whipping her hair across her face. The despair that filled it. As well as the guilt that replaced it soon after. Varric caught her hand. Just in time. He pulls her back to keep her from getting thrown over by the ship. Bringing her back to the semi solid ground of sand under them.

They weathered the storm out under the same group of trees they had been drinking under. Only then the only drinks they had was the rain. Hawke was miserable. The way her face sunk as thunder rolled in.

“Hey.” Varric pinched wet sand between his fingers.

“Hey.” She replied.

“You know Hawke. Next time you want visit a desert island a tent might be nice.” He teased. A half-smile on his face.

She threw wet sand at him. They spent the rest of the storm talking. Making jokes. Catching up on the small people that passed through their life. Varric told her about the mage that they had helped escape. Hawke told him about Carver. Warden life seemed to suit him. By the time the storm ended. She was practically holding him in her lap. Arms far to buff to belong to a human wrapped tightly around his waist. He woke up with them there. His head rested under her neck. He had fought to keep his mind working then. In a semi-conscious state. Doing so was difficult. Chiefly because her breathing was so steady. Memorizing actually.

Thinking back on it. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t happen then. A ship eventually passed by. Looking for good fishing grounds. Picked them up for three gold and took them home. Varric remembers Hawke waking up. He felt disappointed. She was so ready to go. So ready to figure out a way back home. Secretly he had wanted them to stay.

….

How many nights had he dreamt of that island since?

“Oh Hawke.” He whispers her name. It leaves a sour taste on his lips. One he inhales as he bites. Hawke wasn’t a bitter person. Times were just difficult. That’s why they had fought. That was why he was sitting here. All alone in some random ass in. They had happened, and now she was gone again. All the while he sits and watch as others pour their own drinks. Thinking of all the almost moments.


End file.
